Scattered Across Time and Space
by Eth0018
Summary: When the power Spyro called upon to pull the planet back together warped space and time, something noticed. Now lost in an ancient ruin with monsters skulking around every corner, Spyro and Cynder must make allies with strange creatures who see them as little more than beasts. Can they make it home? Or will they be consumed by ravenous clutching shadows... of the darkest dungeon.
1. Chapter 1 Trepidation

**Scattered Across Time and Space**

_**Notice: before you start reading, if you don't have experience about Darkest Dungeon, don't worry too much. I've endeavoured to make this story enjoyable without my reader's prior knowledge, though I do recommend you watch the game's Intro Cinematic. As it sets the tone for the series and by god, that narrators voice is like butter. Who knows? It might even convince you to get the game. Enjoy.**_

**Chapter 1: Trepidation**

Screaming profane curses as he was dragged into the ravenous clutching grasp of the ancestors he wronged so long ago, Malefor was once again torn from the land of the living in a brilliant flash of ancient arcane power. It was a sight that brought Spyro and his dark scaled companion little comfort, the splitting, crumbling earth around him a stark indication of his failings. They had been too late.

"Spyro, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." Cynder wheezed as she limped toward her partner and friend, the black dragoness' wounds from the cataclysmic battle finally catching up with her as she approached.

"Don't be. It's over." He replied, turning to face a massive gash that tore open in the world's crust, the plumes of purple hellfire spiderwebbing their way across the stone being little more than a hint of the dire fate of the people the purple dragon fought so hard for.

"So this is it?"

Spyro didn't reply, what more was there to do? Malefor had won, the Destroyer already did what it was made to do. Those ancestral spirits may have doomed him to the same fate he intended to bring onto the world, but what did that change? They were all going to die anyway. All his trails and tribulations, his sacrifices and losses had been for nothing. He should have been angered, frustrated, overcome with grief, just... something. But no. He wasn't even numb to it; there was nothing — only an overwhelming emptiness.

Then, there was a warm feeling. Something familiar.

"_Spyro... When a dragon dies, he does not truly leave this world. His spirit lives on, binding itself with nature, offering hope for the future..."_ His old master's stern but kind voice echoed in his head as if he was right there standing next to Spyro, speaking of wisdom he remembered from what seemed like an eternity ago took on a new life in the crumbling cavern. The spirits of the Ancestors sealing away the Dark Master once again were proof enough of the truth of his words. Perhaps, if everything that Spyro was told about the godly power that came with being a purple dragon was right then, maybe there was something he could do. Perhaps he could afford to hope.

"I know what I need to do, just get out of here Cynder," Spyro said with a wave of newfound resolve.

"Spyro no... You don't have to do anything; let's just go!" Cynder pleaded, meeting her companion's stern gaze.

"Where, Cynder? There will be _nothing _left! The world is breaking apart. But I think I can stop it... I think I'm meant to."

Cynder's expression softened, her wings fluttering slightly as she steeled herself with a breath, "Then I'm with you."

Exchanging one final glance, Spyro closed his eyes and reached within himself, the raw, untamed magic of his soul flickering fiercely as he began to undo all of the subconscious locks placed upon it after the last time he lost control. He couldn't afford to hold back. Crackling purple light began to shine out from the gaps in his scales as he prepared himself for the incomprehensibly trying task ahead of him. It was always a peculiar sensation, allowing the Convexity to overtake him. It wasn't unpleasant or ominous like the first time he was exposed to it. It was more like an extension of himself, of his hopes and desires made manifest. One might even say the power of his soul was something completely different than that chaotic force. Just as well, he needed absolute clarity of mind for what came next.

His limbs losing their contact with the ground, Spyro spread his wings wide, a relentless torrent of light enveloping him as he willed the world back together with every fibre of his being. It hurt. More than anything the young dragon had ever felt before. As though he was suffering the world's fate in its place. Every stone, every tree, every drop of water, every unfortunate soul flung into the endless expanse.

He felt it _all_.

It was overwhelming. The hungering void on all sides, tearing at his soul piece by agonizing piece. His tenuous grip on the world slipping more and more. Any second now, both he and the world would be scattered to sweet oblivion.

Through it all, Cynder stood by him. Even as the light grew too bright for her closed eyes, she didn't look away. As reality started to warp under the strain of the purple dragon's unfathomable power, she held fast. Spyro was the reason she could stand at all, the reason she got a second chance, and if this were the end for them, she would stand by him until her body gave out. She owed him that much. Through it all she could hear it, the silent screams echoing from beyond the newly forming tears in space and time. Consciousness was failing her at long last, Cynder uttered one final sentence, putting all her emotion behind it despite knowing it would be lost in the cacophony of roaring power and tearing stone.

"I love you..."

And then, everything went white.

* * *

Awakening with shivering splutter, Cynder's mental faculties returned to her all at once in overpowering disarray of scents, sights, and feelings. Cold, it was so cold and so dark. The musty stench of long bleached bones and aerosolized decay filled to the air of the salt-soaked cobbles she lay upon. Leaning herself off her side, red hot pain laced up her back, a yelp escaping her lips for her trouble. It would seem that the powerful numbing effect of the adrenalin had long since worn off. Groaning in discomfort as she resigned herself to rest a little bit longer, Cynder took the time to study her surroundings.

Broken glass from ornate window frames and upturned stonework littered the ground of this long since abandoned hall, the remains of artworks and heirlooms depicting strange symbols and odd ape-like creatures Cynder had never seen before. Wear from the inexorable march of time and the suffocating darkness made it difficult to glean any more from the long forgotten relics, but Cynder had more pressing issues on her mind anyway. Something was wrong; she could feel it in her very soul. It was in the air, a seething, insidious taint, gnawing at the back of her mind. It wasn't like the overpowering presence that tore at her soul in the presence of the Dark Master, no, it was far more... subtle. Wherever Spyro had sent her wasn't safe...

Cynder shot up with a start, the memories of her last encounter flooding her mind. She was alive! Spyro had done the impossible, he stopped the world from breaking apart! Everything they had done wasn't in vain! Joy and happiness streamed down her face, staining the ground with new warmth as her body trembled for a moment. She had spat in the face of that arrogant monster who had caused so much suffering; she could picture him looking on in horror from his eternal prison as all his machinations were torn asunder. A small chuckle escaped her lips; she had no doubt Spyro would appreciate the thought.

Just like that, Cynder's heart sank like a stone. What happened to Spyro?

Surely he was somewhere nearby, he had to be. He couldn't be dead, no, not after that.

Gingerly pushing herself up with newfound urgency, Cynder scanned her surroundings for any sign of her purple friend in the yawning dark. Slowly limping through the corridor, Cynder's breathing grew more and more restless as hope grew more scarce as she slunk past bleached bones that littered parts of the floor. Dark, dismal thoughts crawled their way from the depths of her mind, gnawing at her resolve when each newly rounded corner revealed naught but a new passage and dusty cobwebs in this winding labyrinth. Cynder was mere moments from slumping over in despair when a glint caught her eye, faint and unremarkable from this distance, she tentatively approached. Her heart soared upon seeing the orangeish golden hue of one of Spyro's wing poking out from behind a broken stone column.

Rushing over as fast as her injuries would allow, Cynder's eyes glazed over at Spyro's motionless form. A paw went to his neck at once, and a sigh of unconstrained relief escaped her at the sensation of a pulse, weak though it may be. Though that was to be expected with what he went through. Nestling next to him, Cynder allowed herself to calm slightly as her worries abated. Draping a wing over him to share her warmth, Cynder waited. Content that they made it out alive.

Her thoughts wandered back just before Spyro pulled the world back together when amidst the absolute chaos, she proclaimed her feelings for him. A warm feeling flushed her face as she quietly wondered whether or not he had heard her. Her pleasant thoughts were distracting her from the oppressive environment as she waited for him to awaken.

Fortunately, she didn't have to wait too long.

"Nnnng...?" Spyro mumbled, his eyes twitching under their lids as he slowly began to stir.

"Shhh... easy now, Spyro. It's over; you did it." Cynder reassured, gently nuzzling him as he opened his eyes.

"Cynder? Where are we?"

"Honestly? I was hoping you could tell me." Cynder replied sheepishly, "I don't remember anything after you pulled the planet back together, there was only this overpowering light and then... this."

After a mild case of vertigo from lifting his head a bit too quickly, his face rapidly contorting to meet the tumultuous emotions flashing in his mind. Confusion, concern, relief, before finally settling on understanding. "I see. You're not hurt are you?"

Cynder shook her head, "I should be asking you that, Spyro. I honestly thought you were dead when I first found you. I'm still wrapping my head around how you're still able to stay awake after... _that_."

"That bad, huh?"

Cynder didn't respond, averting her gaze and fidgeting with a pebble.

"I'm sorry if I made you worry..." Spyro said solemnly, dipping his head for a moment, "So what now?"

"Now? Let's just get out of here as quickly as we can. Try to find somewhere safe to rest." Cynder replied, looking more alert "Can you feel it? That feeling in the air?"

"Yeah... It's familiar..."

Cynder's eyes narrowed, "How do you mean familiar? Have you been here before?"

Spyro shook his head, "No... I don't know how to explain it... when I was pulling the planet back together, through the pain, I felt something... else. It pulled at me from... somewhere. It felt wrong. Like this."

"I guess I understand- Wait, pain? Spyro... what happened?" Cynder asked, her features becoming distraught.

"Cynder it's fine I'm-"

"No, Spyro it isn't fine." Cynder said firmly, staring him straight in the eye, "You've always taken it on yourself to bear the burdens of the world because you're the 'purple dragon' destained by prophecy to something great. Well now, you've gone and done it. You saved the world, Spyro. You don't have to bear that burden anymore. If something is wrong, then I want to hear it."

A stunned silence echoed down the ruined halls as Spyro gazed back into Cynder's gleaming, emerald eyes, the utter sincerity in her voice leaving little doubt that she wouldn't let this go. "I understand where you're getting at but... this hardly seems like the place to have a conversation like that. But I promise you, once we find some gems to patch ourselves up and we can fly back to Warfang, we'll sort this out."

"That's all I can ask." Cynder relented, "Can you walk?"

"I think so."

Pulling himself gingerly to his feet, Spyro hobbled his way alongside his friend down those blackened halls of antiquity. One foot after the other, Cynder offering a kind shoulder to lean on whenever he stumbled. Slowly but surely coming back to terms with his skewed sense of balance. Soon enough he could walk well enough, albeit without the same vigour. Though he wasn't dragging his paws on the cobbles anymore, that faint scrapping sound seemed to persist... No, it seemed to be following them. Slowly turning his head, Spyro froze.

"Cynder we need to go, now!" Spyro said with a startled urgency.

Turning to reply, Cynder almost recoiled in horror at the sight of old bones of the long dead that littered the ground of this hall, slowly pulling themselves back into a twisted mockery of life. Even the wraiths of Dante's Freezer were downright pleasant compared to the hungering lifeless gaze from those empty eyes of those, _things_. Clawing and rending at whatever was near as they drew ever closer. Scraps of armour, cloth still clinging to their twisted forms forced into motion from ages unknowable.

Perhaps Cynder could have driven them back, but she was in no condition to risk finding out if her fear element would work on those shambling corpses and Spyro was in no state to call on the power needed to scatter them. So the two adolescents ran for their lives, a new wave of sweet pain numbing stimulant pumping through their veins. Perhaps they were fleeing from something far worse the simple end of their mortal existences if the rattling and unnatural groans of their ancient pursers was anything to go by.

Rounding corner after corner, dashing frantically through any rotten door that would offer passage to help hide from the sounds of the ever encroaching threats that seemed to enclose them from every misshapen visage hiding in the dark, Spyro and Cynder could eventually run no longer. Hearts drumming in the back of their heads, the dragons hid behind the rubble of a half crumbled pillar, desperately trying to silence the screaming for air their lungs begged for as they gathered themselves.

"We can't just keep running blind, Cynder." Spyro whispered as loudly as he dared, "It's only a matter of time before we trap ourselves in a dead end and I'm not sure we'd be able to fight through so many like this."

"I know." She hissed back, hundreds of scenarios and outcomes racing past her eyes as she kept them trained on the blackness behind them, "Do you think you can use any of your elements if it comes down to it?"

"I... I don't know... I've never been this drained before."

Slowly, but unmistakably, the sound of the walking dead began to crawl back into their sense of hearing.

"Spyro, I may be able to buy you some time."

"No, Cynder that's not-"

"Listen to me, Spyro!" Cynder almost yelled, "I may not be in the best condition, but that hasn't stopped me before. You trust me don't you?"

"That isn't the problem, Cynder, I think we're surrounded."

The grinding clank of steel against stone finally reached Cynder's ears from beyond her planned escape route, dark revelation flashing across her features as her hope once again was dashed. Cursing herself, Cynder drew her wings close, trying to hide as much as herself as possible, Spyro following her example. If they couldn't flee from the hungering dead, then maybe they could take them by surprise. Perhaps she could carve a way through them for Spyro to follow; it wouldn't be easy. For all she knew, they didn't see with some indecent approximation of sight and instead could sense her very life force by whatever foul power animated them.

The first of the shambling bone crowd rounded the corner, four of them in total, no doubt followed by many more. Rusted swords, spears and makeshift clubs no doubt scavenged during the pursuit. Cynder grimaced, they were intelligent enough to make use of tools as opposed to just mindlessly clawing and biting at whatever they could grab. Their situation was steadily becoming more and drier by the second, injury and despondence setting the stage for what may be their last stand.

Back legs tensing in anticipation, Cynder prepared herself to protect Sypro with everything she had, going over her plan of attack one last time to be sure. First, she would try to scatter them with a blast of her fear element and take apart as many as she could before they could regroup. If that didn't work, she would do everything she could to thin their numbers and pray that Spyro could call on at least one of his elements to assist her. Cynder waited with bated breath for as many of her prey to get as close as she dared to allow...

She never got the chance.

Light cut through the bleakness like a curtain of divine radiance, and for the briefest moment, the undead ceased their advance in apparent hesitance. Only the sound of solid footsteps and the burning of torch-fire filled the hall for the longest second of the two dragon's lives. Abhorrent shrieks and hisses of anger erupted from the fiends as they charged straight past Spyro and Cynder's hiding place to confront this new source of their ravenous ire. Light stung their eyes as they adjusted from pitch blackness, yet they were unable to look away from the incredible scene that unfolded before them.

They were like those ape-like creatures depicted in the ruined paintings and busts Cynder saw earlier, standing upright like those from the Cheetah tribes. Their heads were furless save for the short scruffy fur top of one, at least that's what Spyro assumed, their bodies were covered almost entirely in foreign but visually distinct apparel making gleaning anything but the shape of their forms impossible. Though there were only four of them, they were extremely well coordinated, especially the heavily armoured one and the one draped in a very well made coat with a knife and a strange contraption in his off hand. The nimbler of the two dashing forward with a stab, backing off swiftly to let the Armoured One cleave his weighty sword through the foe.

"We are the flame!" he bellowed as his steel split bone.

The other two were no slouches either, far from it. The small one welding a straight mace seemed to mutter odd sounding incantations from the book in her off hand that shrouded her companions in a gentle light whenever one took a hit. The one in black robes donning a corvid inspired mask lobbed pouches of an acidic fluid that ate away at the very bones of the unholy cretins, keeping firmly out of reach.

The repugnant monsters never stood a chance.

Even as more came down from the hall, these strange warriors took them apart piece by piece, littering the ground with shattered and half melted bone and rotten sinew. Until every last one of them was annihilated.

Tentatively, Spyro and Cynder peered out from their hiding spot just enough to not be seen. The battle over, the warriors began looking through the remains of their fallen adversaries. The Armoured one grabbing anything that took his fancy and stuffing them into a pouch when he thought the others weren't looking, the Masked One and the Coated One both looking somewhat annoyed with him. Satisfied, they continued down toward where Spyro and Cynder hid.

"Sh-should we try to talk to them? Maybe ask directions on how to leave?" Spyro asked hesitantly.

"And what if they're some special faction of the Dark Army who hasn't heard that they lost yet?" Cynder retorted, ducking her head down and pulling in her tail "If they turned on us, I don't think there's anything we could do against a group that well coordinated."

"Then what do you think we should do?"

"We shadow them." Cynder replied sternly, "Listen in, find out as much as we can. Let them deal with those _things_, while we decide if they can be trusted. If they can't, we let them lead us out of here. Otherwise, we do it your way."

"And what if we're found out? It'd ruin any goodwill we could establish by approaching them with trust." Spyro grumbled for a moment, before relenting with a sigh, "But you're right, we don't know enough. We lay low, for now, listen in and figure out our next move."

With that settled, the two saviours of the world held their breath as the mysterious warriors approached, neither of them daring to even think of breathing until the footsteps were firmly in the distance.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. I made this fic as a challenge for myself to meld two thematically different series together to stave off writer's block. I have to say it was fun and I may continue with it if I get enough feedback. I've got an idea of what'll happen next, but u****ntil then, have a great day.**


	2. Chapter 2 The Flamebringers

**Hello! Welcome to the second chapter of this bizarre crossover of heavily conflicting tones. This chapter is going to focus more on the Darkest Dungeon side of things. Due to the nature of DD, the player has the ability to name the heroes. This is because the units you do recruit have randomly generated names except for the first two characters you receive. So while technically not OC's, I took necessary liberties but will endeavour to keep as close to the source material as possible. Peace.**

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Flamebringers**

"I see, so that _Thing_ still defiles the ruins of my lineage. I suppose it's fitting that it would cheat death yet again. Thank you for informing me. You are excused."

An uneasy silence hung in the air of the office like a swarm of biting insects, nervous twitching and odd tics prevailing amongst the attending gentry as the young courier made a swift exit. No one made a sudden movement, not unlike a heard of deer staring down a lion. Swivelling on his lavish seat with a long creak, Eric Von Tabitha IV turned his attention to the men and woman who pledged themselves to cleansing the encroaching corruption within the hamlet. Be them hardened mercenaries still foolishly seeking fortune, to zealous warriors guided by a holy purpose and anything in between.

Fools, the lot of them. But who was he to judge?

"I have just been informed of an attack that took place on one of our supply lines on its way down from the cove. It would that seem that The Jilted was not thorough enough with their latest expedition into the Ruins. The culprits were a band of highly coordinated undead. Those of you with experience hunting these monsters know this can only mean one thing." Tabitha let the statement hang for a moment "Whether it due to our resident exorcists underestimating what it takes to undo the foul magics it commands or, worse, that it isn't the only one of it's kind down there, it is irrelevant. In the end, there is still a Necromancer commanding this undead menace."

The room erupted in a wave of objection and denial at that, blame and ire were thrown left and right with the same rabid enthusiasm that caged primates fling their feces with.

"I knew they were the newest lot here, but this is just insulting." Muttered the balding giant of a man from the back, his one eye narrowed in annoyance.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Benedictus fellow and his dealings in the dark arts cursed them to fail before they even began. Not even to mention that _creature_ he fraternizes with..." sister Rosalyn said, her voice cowled in a disgusted edge unbefitting a servant of the light.

"I'll have you know, despite their eccentricities, I wouldn't hesitate to serve in those unhallowed grounds again, and I will not sit by while you insult them." retorted a masked man draped in bloody bandages and heavy armour, "In fact, I'm appalled that a fellow member of the church would speak in such a manner!"

Tabitha watched with tired eyes as his champions, egos groomed fat from surviving so many of the hamlet's horrors, tore into each other with wild abandon. Questions of professionalism and character chief among subjects thrown without consideration, their shallow arguments bearing all the weight a finches egg in the face of a growing storm. Tabitha was in no mood for it.

"To answer the questions, you all no doubt have about this unforeseen situation..." Tabitha said raising his voice, his guests immediately hushing, "No, I don't doubt the abilities of any member of the Jilted, nor do these events bring the future of anyone's continued employment within the hamlet."

The room breathed a collective sigh of relief at that.

"Yes, I'll be assigning a group to deal with the threat before it grows out of hand and yes, I will also be assigning another to the Cove to retrieve what has been lost. Speaking of which... there is something else that has been brought to my attention."

Shuffling through the inch thick stack of reports, Tabitha eventually found the report detailing the event in question. "According to multiple witness accounts, a 'brilliant light' was seen above the Cove moments before a massive crash rocked the Hamlet. So for those of you wondering; yes, this is the same noise that many of you complained about in the early hours of the morning. I don't need to remind any of you that we have far too many problems to deal with already so I will be brief. The Dreadlings will be in charge of both retrieving and securing our wayward supplies and investigating the source of this 'light.' Finally, I will be trusting the Necromancer issue with The Red Hook." Tabitha finished, looking for any objections and receiving none, "The rest of you are dismissed to your regular duties. Godspeed."

Satisfied with the Heir's instructions and with new goals to work towards, the meeting dispersed quickly. The attendees were all too eager to escape the cramped relativity confines of their employer's workplace. A small sigh escaped Tabitha's lips as he observed the mess his loyal vagabonds had left behind; mud and filth dragged across his antiquate rugs, a tear in one of his priceless portraits retrieved from the depths of the weald and the shattered remains of an old bust beside the exit. His housekeeper was going to be furious, but such is life. Turning his gaze to address the lone overcoat donning guest who was skulking in the corner even when the others had long since left, face half covered in his signature scarf, Tabitha sighed.

"Dismas. You have your orders, shouldn't you be preparing for your latest task?"

"I hardly thought that you of all people would be questioning my ability remain focused, but that's beside the point." Dismas replied as he meandered his way to the side of Tabitha's desk, "Something's up. Spill it."

"I assume you don't mean the petty squabbling of your esteemed colleges." It was more of a statement than a question, "While yes it does trouble me to an extent... I fear that something else is amiss."

"When is it not?" Dismas scoffed, "Even so, should we be worried?"

"I don't know. Ever since the first expedition into the depths of that realm of death and madness, I've been able to see _things _in the corners of my eye_._" Tabitha said, his ever-present scowl accentuated by the topic, "In some of the old journal entries Benedictus was able to translate, _You-know-who _describes something similar happening just before he sent the letter. That he was able to: 'see things how they really are.' But even this is not what has me worried."

"This place changes people, and never for the better." the Highwayman said, nodding sagely, arms crossed, "Guess even cramped up in here isn't safe."

"Something has happened, Dismas. I know not how or why, but I will not have this bloody champaign brought down by some outside force we could have otherwise prepared for. You, Reynauld and the rest of the Red Hook are my most trusted battalion, and while I have no doubt you will succeed, I cannot help but worry." Tabitha paused, taking a swig of the brandy he kept under his robes, "I plan to send you all for the final assault on the _thing _below, if something were to happen... well, our questionable odds would sink even further into the mud."

"So why send us out now?"

"We cannot fight a war on two fronts." Tabitha said plainly, "If whatever this anomaly is conspires against us, and if the Necromancer were able to mobilize an army on the Hamlet, we would be left vulnerable. This cannot stand."

"Good to see you've put your usual amount of thought into this." Dismas quipped, "Well at least Felicia will stop harassing me for her experiments. See ya' Eric."

"Safe travels, Dismas, and... happy hunting."

* * *

My latest concoctions have spent far too long collecting dust, so much to document... Truly it has been far too long since I was last out in the field, perhaps this time we could capture one of them for study..."

Felicia's ramblings on the possibilities for scientific discovery provided some measure of stimulation on the long carriage ride up the estate, the ever-bleak sights of the corrupted countryside doing little for Dismas' state of mind. His thoughts still going over his exchange with his enigmatic employer.

"Out of the question." Roselyn said in rebuttal, "No discovery is worth fraternizing with the dead. No matter what you tell yourself, some things are better off remaining forgotten."

"Bah! You claim to hate the evils that be, sure, but how can you fight something you don't understand? 'Knowing thy enemy' is a phrase for a reason, no?" the Plague Doctor argued.

The Vestal was about to continue another of their famous long-winded arguments with her companion but was cut off.

"Come now; this is no time for old friends to bicker. We are the Red Hook! Favoured by both god and master Tabitha himself! We are the Flame that will light the way for the future! We have an example to set." Reynauld interjected, the old Crusader's zealous mantra rattling the cabin, "And though I agree with Roselyn on this matter, that's not to say you are without merit Felicia. I'd be willing to turn the other cheek at any attempts you make at apprehending one of the monsters, provided you're capable of doing so on your own without assistance. As well as without endangering the mission."

Felicia grumbled a little at that but didn't object and Roselyn, content with Reynauld's seemingly reasonable conditions, returned to praying for good fortune. For a moment, peace prevailed. Reynauld typically had that effect whenever he spoke up, decades of experience leading soldiers into battle had given him outstanding charisma. As well as an impeccable eye for noticing subtle but potentially troublesome changes in his companion's demeanours.

"You usually have something witty to say whenever I give one of my rousing speeches, is something the matter, Dismas?" Reynauld asked, rousing the old rogue from his train of thought.

"Hm? Nothing much. Just thinking about a talk I had with the Boss before we left."

"By your expression, I'd say it's much it is more than just nothing. If our collective benefactor is involved, then I believe this concerns all of us." Reynauld said matter of factly, Roselyn's and even Felicia's attention were torn from their tasks at the mention of Tabitha. All eyes solely focused on the twitchy Highwayman.

"It's something you should take up with the man in person." Dismas said quickly, fiddling with the locket under his scarf, "I'd rather not distract everyone from our job and-"

"Hear ye, Hear ye! We've arrived; abandon all hope all ye who step foot in those foul crypts." the Coachman called out, oblivious to his impeccable sense of timing.

"Speaking of which; let's hustle."

Swiftly unloading from the stagecoach, Felicia taking inventory of their supplies with a sharp eye before the coach and it's sole occupant made their all too eager getaway, from the monsters that could be watching with hungering eyes. The Red Hook stood before the gaping maw that leads into the ruins. Wafts of foul, decaying air permeated the surrounding area, the long-dead oaks, and rotting plants a visible sign of the unholy powers stalking below. No attempt had been made even to try to hide the entryway as if it were an invitation for any foolhardy soul to fall prey to the lurking horrors in pursuit of glory.

The Red Hook were no fools.

Lighting a torch, Reynauld tossed the flaming stick into the abyss, sword at the ready for anything that lay in wait. For a moment, the world stood still. Only the faint clinking of Dismas' flintlock and the gentle rustling of Felicia going through her pouches being discernible above the tension in the air, steel, and death ready to fly at the slightest hint of a threat. Satisfied that there wasn't any immediate danger, Reynauld slowly began the descent into the sprawling tomb, his companions never far behind.

"It seems that fortune smiles upon us this day. The fiends seem ill-prepared for our intrusion." Roselyn said as she lit her torch.

"Or they're hoping to lure us into a trap." Dismas replied, "Least I remind you of the first time we came here. I almost feel nostalgic for those old days..."

"It did always fascinate me how undead are to not only able to use complex tools but also set ambushes and traps." Felicia added, almost stepping over the crumbled remains of a section of wall, "I have to wonder; how much of their past lives do they still retain? Even if they are still subject to the whims of the thing that reanimated them. "

"All the more reprehensible." Roselyn spat, passionate anger flaring in her eyes, "The dead reviving the dead, on and on down the years... It will never end if something is not done. My only regret is that we didn't take it on ourselves to deal with it sooner."

"Well said, Sister Roselyn!" Reynauld said, eyes still firmly trained on the blackness ahead, "There is only one fate that befits the heretics who serve the-"

"Hold up! We've got a trap." Dismas said, picking up a rock and tossing it at the ground in front of his fearless leader, causing twenty or so spikes to erupt from a nearly invisible pressure plate.

Setting to work at once, Dismas produced a screwdriver from his coat as he began the search for a very specific notch on the floor. Within minutes he had located, opened and torn out the mechanism within a hidden cache, disabling the trap and allowing the group to continue at a slightly diminished pace with refreshed wariness. Signs of the Ancestor's frenzied digging apparent in even the most well-preserved rooms as The Red Hook descended further into the Ruins of the Tabitha estate. Each step, drowning the minuscule amount of sunlight that filtered through the cracks in the stone until the only torchlight guided the warriors through those cursed halls.

"I'm not the only one freaked out by how we haven't stumbled across any of the bastards yet, am I?" Dismas said to no one in particular.

"It is quite disconcerting." Felicia agreed, peering cautiously over her shoulder, searching for any sign of any would-be stalkers, "I'm more equipped to deal with their more prevalent mobbing strategy than anything else."

"Bah! It's nothing that we haven't dealt with before." Reynauld added, "It will take more than new tactics to stop us from burning them to ash!"

"Glad to see you're as foolishly unshakable as ever, you old-" the Highwayman stopped himself, a hand raised to halt his friends as he trained his ears ahead.

"Another trap?" Roselyn asked, hand drifting toward her mace.

"Sounds like there's a ruckus up ahead."

"I can hear it now too." Felicia added, readying one of her blight bombs, "What could have caused them to give away their positions like that? Intellect may not be a strong suit of the undead, but I would think the Necromancer can make up for those shortcomings."

"You don't think some poor soul wandered down here?" Roselyn said, mace and tome firmly in hand.

"Maybe, but this could be a ploy." Dismas warned, both knife and firearm firmly brandished, "Even if it isn't, they could be dead before we arrive. We can't afford to be reckless."

"Whatever the reason, we now have an obstacle to overcome!" Reynauld proclaimed, readjusting his grip on his sword, "Onwards!"

Resuming their march with new urgency, The Red Hook weaved around broken support beams and ruined alchemy equipment. Inhuman moans and the hissing of air being pushed through rotten throats drew ever closer, the anticipation for the coming battle growing with each step. Finally rounding the last corner, they finally saw them. They were shambling in the dark, staring back with their hateful, empty gazes at the trespassers who dared to bring light into their realm. A scouting party, if the lack of significant armour indicated anything. Immediately noticing that there didn't seem to be a victim, Dismas silently breathed a sigh of relief. That would have complicated things.

"Dismas, with me!" Reynauld commanded as he took point, the Highwayman close in tow. Darting around the Crusader's left flank with a stabbing advance, Dismas carved out an opening for his companion to bring down his blade in a ruthless smite on the first of many.

"We are the Flame!"

* * *

**Would you look at that? Intrigue, drama and more ominous foreboding, oh my! I'm not certain if I completely nailed the writing style of DD, but I'll be damned if it isn't fun to write. The style is a big part DD and about 90% the reason I decided to make this crossover. **

**I encourage you to leave me feedback in the reviews if you are so inclined and cation you to look out for the next chapter: Contact.**

**See you next time.**


	3. Chapter 3 Contact

**Hello and welcome, damn I didn't think this was going to get done, but hey, here we are! I don't have much to say except that this is where the 'crossover' actually starts to happen. Enjoy. **

* * *

**Chapter 3: Contact**

With barely a moment to spare, the injured dragons were able to duck their heads back down behind the pillar before being spotted. Tucking in any extremities as tightly as possible, Spyro and Cynder pressed their bodies to the cold stone as the footsteps of those strange creatures drew nearer. Without the wild clashing of weapons and the hateful snarls of the undead, the sound of conversation between grew discernible. The lighthearted banter exchanged between them after a life and death scenario suggesting they had dealt with those terrors before. Breathing as softly as they could, the two dragons listened intently.

"Well that was underwhelming." the Coated One muttered, kicking the skull of a felled undead down the hall, "They didn't even have anything worth taking back on them either."

"I rather enjoyed their meagre attempt, it's always a boon to have an encounter go by this effortlessly." the Armoured One replied, readjusting the trinket-laden pouches on his belt, "Come now Dismas, you cannot honestly tell me that you aren't pleased to have a chance to loosen up before delving deeper?"

_Deeper? Why would they want to go further into this horrid place? _Spyro thought.

"It's not that." Dismas replied, "It bothers me that they weren't going out of their way to quietly skulk around, they were already at prepared to fight. Like they were looking for something..."

"I'll admit my curiosity on that matter is piqued." the Masked One said thoughtfully, "It's possible that a group of would-be monster hunters foolishly marched down here and were scattered. It wouldn't the first time."

"Hunters to pick off a survivor then." Dismas replied with an affirmative nod, "Looks like we have an additional goal down here. If there are any left."

_Well, they're half right. _Cynder thought dryly.

"Onward!" the Armoured One ordered, the rest of the warriors following him single file.

Only when their footsteps started to fade with the light as they rounded a corner did the dragons finally get to stretch their cramping limbs. "So what do you think?" Spyro asked as both he and Cynder worked up the nerve to begin tailing them, "They don't strike me as the kind creatures who would follow the Dark Master."

"Maybe. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be cautious." Cynder conceded before her features hardened, "But they said they were going deeper. Following them isn't going to get us out of here, Spyro. We don't need to stalk them any longer."

"Then what would you have us do?"

"We follow the tracks they left in the dust. I'm not sure if you can see them, but they're clear to me." Cynder said, tapping a claw to one of the said prints, "Afterwards, we reorientate ourselves, find some spirit gems to get you patched up and fly ourselves back to Warfang for your procession. The Guardians are probably worried sick if Volteer hasn't driven them insane yet."

"It's reassuring to hear you've got this all planned out, but I think you're getting ahead of yourself, Cynder." Spyro said with a hollow chuckle, "Who's to say that the surface will be any safer? Let alone the path there. And... I don't think I'm in any shape to fly. I think we both know that you wouldn't risk leaving my side, so we'd be grounded in the open."

"That's... I see." Cynder mumbled, disheartened, "What do you suggest?"

"Think about it Cynder. Not only are those warriors more than capable of fending off those things, but they're also on the lookout for survivors too." Spyro reasoned, "I understand how you feel, but in our current condition, I'd rather take our chances with someone who I can speak with than whatever else is stalking these halls."

"You're right. I hate it, but you're right." Cynder said dejectedly, "But if I sense the slightest hint of hostility, I will do what I have to."

Though hardly pleased with that response, Spyro knew better than to argue. He'd do the same if the situation were reversed and considering Cynder's feelings for him, it'd be vindictive of him to deny that. Their course of action set, the two set off before those 'Warriors of the Flame' widened the gap too far. They weren't hard to find, the torches they carried shone like a beacon in the blackness. As if to challenge any of the stalking terrors of the dark. Stalking them without being seen, however, was a different matter entirely.

Spyro couldn't help but look on with bated breath as his dark-scaled companion advanced to eavesdrop, hoping to learn something that could put their foot in the door with them. But even with Cynder's ability to blend in with the shadows via her unnatural element, getting within earshot was beyond risky. The Coated One, Dismas, was exceptionally sharp-eyed and Spyro was almost sure she'd been spotted. Though, if they had seen her, they didn't pay her any mind. Perhaps the rest of them grew a little more restless though.

More careful than Spyro gave her credit for, Cynder silently slinked from shadow to shadow, behind rubble, discarded apparatus' and old statues. She strained her ears to listen to their idle chatter, only veering away back to make sure Spyro was safe whenever more of the undead attacked. Being forced to rely on these unwitting soldiers bothered Cynder to no end, she always felt an obligation to rely upon herself after Spyro freed her and it rubbed her the wrong way to benefit off of these creatures' hard work. What was more worrying, however, was the variety of armaments their foes. Some made use of crossbows, a couple wore heavy armour and used maces bigger than her entire body. They were armed like the soldiers of the Dark Army, but even they didn't trouble her nearly as much as that unassuming undead dressed in mattered purple furs.

It wasn't strong or imposing like the rest of them, but the scent foul of the brew it splashed from the black goblet it carried made Cynder's nose curl. It wasn't just some rancid beverage; there was an almost bewitching allure to it, the same pull that one feels in the back of their mind when in a position of trust — the temptation for a deplorable act. A cry of terror left the Small One as her face was drenched in the black fluid, though the perpetrator was cut down almost immediately after, the sizzling sound that reverberated through the hall made Cynder grimace.

"Bah! Those foul Goblet-Bearers never cease to be troublesome." The Armoured one growled, crushing the cup under an iron boot, "You are not injured are you, Roselyn?"

"Only my dignity." Roselyn replied with a weak smile, wiping the tainted brew from her brow, "Can never get used to the visions though."

"I have some experimental vapours that might put your mind at ease." the Masked One suggested, holding a pouch of exotic looking herbs.

"This is hardly the time for that, Felicia." Roselyn declined, before turning to the Armoured One, "Reynauld, would you keep a lookout for a place to set up camp? I feel as though we'll need to collect ourselves soon."

"I too have begun to feel the effects of this place weighing on me." Reynauld admitted, "I shall search for a defensible location, we shall decide our next move from there. Hold fast until then, Roselyn."

Slinking back into the dark towards Spyro, Cynder informed him of what she had heard and seen. Perturbed by these other kinds of undead she described, Spyro felt that they should request their aid soon. Nodding in contemplation, Cynder agreed that approaching them in the open while they were resting was the best way to introduce themselves. The purple dragon would take charge of the first part; he was always better at negotiating than Cynder, not to mention her condition. If those warriors asked the wrong questions, then things could get ugly. Spyro assured her that he wouldn't let it come to that, but Cynder knew that was too optimistic. She had seen the fear in the eyes of children, so what chances did she have with battle-hardened veterans? She'd be lucky if they didn't try to skin her alive.

"...Cynder?" Spyro prodded, rousing the dragoness from her brooding thoughts.

"Sorry, go on," she mumbled, lifting her head and trying to find something else to focus on.

"I know that look Cynder; I won't let it come to that." Spyro said firmly, his eyes filled with conviction, "I will always stand up for you when it comes to your past, you know that, right?"

"Thank you, but that isn't the issue here," Cynder replied, a hint of a smile peeking from the corner at his words.

"If you think that they-" Spyro froze, a chill shooting up his spine as his instincts suddenly screamed at him to move.

His body didn't react fast enough.

A wordless cry emanated from Spyro as a bloodied talon swept out from behind the darkness, flinging him into a wall. Cynder didn't even have a chance to call out to her friend before she was forced to jump back from a blow that shook the ground. It's gaze falling on this new threat, Cynder nearly froze. The thing was big, bigger than even the most robust apes and endlessly more frightening. The smell of death radiated off of it. Cold, grey skin clung to the creature like wet fabric; it's sharp bones threatening to breach the surface of its wart covered back. Milky eyes pierced through the gloom from behind thick strands of mattered hair and wads of drool rolled out between needle-like fangs, sullying the bandoleer of bleached skulls tied around its torso.

A morbid testament to its ravenous hunger.

The thing swung a blood-soaked claw at Cynder, eager to end the dragon as quickly as possible. Perhaps a bit too eager. Dodging out of the way at the last moment, Cynder let loose a torrent of her poison at it's exposed face, forcing it to rear back and shriek in agony. Not wasting a moment, Cynder darted between its legs lashed her tail-blade at one while an outstretched claw caught the other. Flinching as an icy cold liquid splashed on her, Cynder turned to jump away from the flailing beast when white-hot pain laced through her wing as her feet were torn from the ground. Vision flickering as she groaned from a harsh impact, Cynder winced at the sight of her wing's torn membrane splayed across her side and broken, no doubt.

Eyes being drawn to the salivating giant lumbering toward her, the eye her venom missed staring at her with murderous intent. Struggling to spur her legs into motion, Cynder forced herself to stand as the monstrosity drew nearer. Each of its lumbering steps oddly silent. Staring up into the maws of death eager to embrace her, Cynder stood her ground, if she was going to die here, then the least she could do is take this thing with her.

Calling on what little remained of her magic, black flames licked out from the gaps in her fangs as Cynder prepared to dose the fiend in her shadow breath in a last-ditch attempt to end the encounter. She'd only have enough in her for a single blast.

"We've got a Ghoul!" Came Dismas' voice from the hall.

Cursing under her breath as she stole a glance over her shoulder and squinting at the growing light behind her, Cynder growled in frustration. The scuffle with this 'Ghoul', had not only broken her wing and hurt Spyro but also ruined their attempt at reconnaissance too. Her stomach lurched at the thought of Spyro's condition, his form crumpled against the side of a wall, gashes on his side leaking blood. Shaking her head, Cynder refocused herself. She couldn't help him while this _Thing_ was in her way and faced with the decision of either keep fighting a losing battle with the Ghoul in her debilitated state or praying that those creatures weren't hostile. It wasn't a choice at all. _Nothing for it then._ Cynder thought grimly as she broke into a sprint toward the light, her purser not hesitating to chase down its prey.

"Over here!" She called out, quickly darting behind an old bookcase the warriors had looted before she watched the scene unfold.

* * *

Dismas knew something was following them, sifting through the dark just beyond sight, he informed his team of such with the well-practised hand signals he taught himself for alerting each-other of a threat without tipping off a would-be stalker. The crashing and cry for help that followed quickly dismissed any need for continued secrecy at once. He cursed himself at the sound of the voice, Dismas knew that things had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. If it were up to him, he would have left the poor sod to their fate. They had a job to do, for light's sake! But it wasn't just up to him, was it? No, he had to be paired up with a literal knight in shining armour.

"The beast assails a fair maiden!" Reynauld cried out, pulling ahead of his comrades in arms, "Fear not, the Red Hook will dispose of this affront to nature in brutal fashion!"

It baffled the old rouge how he moved so swiftly in that armour, the cry of some poor waif being all it took to spur the knight into a fit of reckless abandon, needlessly betting everyone's lives on could very well be a ruse. Dismas' silently cursed the old crusader as he picked up speed to keep up with him, readying his flintlock as they drew closer to the fell beast. It struck the highwayman as odd when the Ghoul finally became visible; half of its face had been melted off as if it had already been hit with one of Felicia's plague bombs. Much like the one sailing over his head now. Contents of the pouch splattering onto the Ghoul's shoulder with a sharp hiss as corrosive microbes ate away at its flesh.

Its pained screech was drowned out by the bark of Dismas' pistol, tearing a hole into it's weakened shoulder in a flash of fire and smoke. Taking advantage of the distraction, Reynauld rammed the butt of his sword into the side of its head, sending it reeling back. The gentle light surrounding Roselyn intensified as she chanted a prayer from her sacred tome, coalescing at the peak of her mace as she prepared to lay divine judgement upon her foe.

Her words did not come fast enough.

Not nearly dazed as Reynauld would have liked to believe, the Ghoul tore a skull from its body and flung it with deadly precision. Bone splinters scattered with a sickening crack across the side of Roselyn's head, sending the vestal crashing to the ground, her spell fizzling away. Casting the group to the verge of panic.

"Fuck!" Cursed Dismas, deftly dashing in with a stab to draw the monster's attention.

"Felicia!" Reynauld called back to the plague doctor as he slammed his blade into his enemy's arm, glancing off the bone.

"On it!" she confirmed, besides her injured teammate in an instant. It didn't look good. Blood leaked down Roselyn's forehead, and her eyes were dull and unfocused, a concussion no doubt. Pulling the vial of medicinal herbs she kept on her at all times, Felicia wafted the healing vapours towards the holy woman's nose.

Emboldened by its victory, the Ghoul let out an ungodly howl. A sound not meant to be heard by the ears of men. The encroaching blackness seemed to writhe one the edges of sight, any who listened to the vile cry becoming victims of gnawing uncertainty that bore into even the iron wills of the Red Hook. Staring with it's single, unblinking eye at its quarry, a black tongue slinked over its black fangs as it readied a stained claw for the coming feast.

Heart pounding in the back of his head as his instincts kicked in, Dismas forced his uncooperative arm toward the Ghoul's knee. "Shut the bloody hell up." he snarled as he shot at point blank, "Now! Lay 'em low!"

"Foul heathen, thou stand accused of forsaking the light and throwing thy ilk in with the dark." Reynauld began, each word charging the very air as he produced a scroll penned in golden ink, "I cast the heaven's retribution upon thee, may the light have mercy on thy's passing. Now begone!"

The pale glow emanating from the holy parchment intensified at the last word, rays of light shot out of the inscriptions, tearing burning holes through gnarled flesh. The Ghoul's claws shot forward to tear at the accursed paper that dared to bring the blinding light and the meat-sack that held it, only to utter a gurgle of confusion as it's arms crumbled to ash before it's very eyes. It didn't even realise it had died before it hit the floor. What remained of it at least.

Beads of sweat streaking down his brow, Dismas let out a long sigh. He'd never get used to the sound those things make. Sauntering over to the downed vestal, Dismas offered a hand to help her up. She took it despite Felicia's protests and stood up unsteadily, rocking preciously from side to side. A small nod being all the indication from her that he needed, Dismas turned his ire upon the remains of the Ghoul, stomping it's half disintegrated head in out of spite. Roselyn would be fine, she had been through worse, and a blessing from her god would keep her on her feet. It'd take much more than a skull to the face to keep her down from her sense of duty. Dismas knew that much.

"I hope this wench was worth putting the mission at risk." Dismas said dejectedly to Reynauld, "You know that if Roselyn goes down, then all of this may as well have been pissing in the wind, right?"

"And I'm sure you remember that as a servant of the light and as such, a code binds me. If I were to break just because it was convenient would leave me powerless." he responded in the rehearsed sounding tone of voice he would use whenever someone would question his faith, "Roselyn would support me on this venture too no doubt, even with the benefit of hindsight."

"Right, sometimes I forget that I'm the only sane one out of all of you." the highwayman retorted.

"Speaking of which, we should make certain that of our new charge's safety." Reynauld said as he approached the bookshelf, ignoring the snide remark, "The Ghoul has been dispatched, are you unharmed? We can guide you out of the Ruins if you are lost."

"W-Wait!" She responded in a haggard but cautious sounding voice, stopping the Crusader in his tracks, "Before I step out from here I want you to promise me something."

"If it is within my power and not unreasonable, we shall," Reynauld responded, glancing back at his companions. The woman sounded desperate and afraid, and the old warrior's wizened ears couldn't pick out an inkling of deception in her voice.

"I want you to promise me that no harm will come to me or my friend. No matter what you think when you see me."

Stepping past the crusader before he could answer the odd request, Dismas marched up to her hiding place with a scowl. "Oi! We didn't just halt the progress of our mission to be insulted by some moronic fool who decided to delve into this godforsaken place unprepared! We aren't the monsters here!" Dismas barked, rounding the bookshelf before anyone could stop him, "I don't care how fucked up you may look, we got a job to do and can't waste any more time with you that we have too. Whatever is messed up with you can't be..."

"Oh."

Voice trailing off as he made eye contact with the strange creature, Dismas' hand slowly inched toward his knife as they stared each other down in silence. It was about the size of Beret's wolf-hound and reptilian in nature, a crown of sharp white horns adorning its head like a crown. A pair of leathery, bat-like wings sprouted from its shoulders, the left one laying against its side. Misshapen and useless, it's membrane torn from whatever scuffle it had with the Ghoul. Scales of a muted ruby colour lined the underside of its wings and belly, contrasting the shiny black of the rest of it, making its emerald eyes quite striking. It's gaze reflected a certain quality that a mere animal couldn't, whatever it was, it was intelligent enough to speak and in Dismas' experience, that never boded well.

Startled, the creature took a step back while it regarded him before it turned tail and ran. It must have seen him go for his blade. Dismas would have tried to shoot it but he hadn't reloaded his firearm from kneecapping the Ghoul, and it sprinted into the blackness unabated. Slowly slinking out from behind the bookshelf, Dismas approached his team, mind racing to comprehend what had just transpired.

"What was that?" Roselyn asked to no one in particular, having at least somewhat shaken off her concussion.

"I don't know, but it sure as hell wasn't human." Dismas replied distantly, absentmindedly loading another round into his flintlock, "You all heard it right? Wasn't just me and ol' rust bucket here going senile, yeah?"

"It's fuzzy, but I did hear the voice of a young woman." Roselyn nodded.

"Fascinating. Perhaps if she isn't hostile, we should try to capture her?" Felicia spoke up with that same exuberant tone she used whenever she pondered the thought of a new experiment or discovery, quickly jotting down notes in her journal, "We may have very well discovered the first sentient species outside of homo-sapiens Provided this isn't just some escaped experiment of course."

"Calm yourself, Felicia, needless speculation will get us nowhere." Reynauld said firmly, "All we know is that a strange creature either asked us for help or attempted to deceive us. Either way, our course is clear; we track it down and take the appropriate course of action."

* * *

**So that could have gone better, impatient Dismas is impatient. Can't say I'm entirely pleased with how I handled Dismas' reaction to Cynder, but I'm not certain what else he would have done besides stab or shoot her. But I'm not sure he'd be that rash. Eh, the only thing certain now is that the Red Hook's job became a lot more complicated.**

**Feel free to leave a review and tell me what you think/how to improve. Peace. **


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